


Akemi Homura is an Awful Girl

by Startle_Stars



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Solo Action Writing Contest, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Startle_Stars/pseuds/Startle_Stars
Summary: Homura uses many lies, and a little magic, to see far more of Madoka than ever before. All it would take is a short trip to a quiet swimming pool.
Relationships: Akemi Homura/Kaname Madoka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Akemi Homura is an Awful Girl

_I am an awful girl,_ Homura thought as she furiously swam back and forth in the near-empty evening waters of the swimming pool. Like any respectable school these days, Mitakihara’s educational facilities were equipped with extensive sports facilities, including this pool that Homura and Madoka now had to themselves. This little, innocent swimming session had been over a week in the making.

Homura had constructed an elaborate network of lies, excuses, justifications and deflections to use on Madoka. Endless time loops had trained her mind to consider the dozens of paths that Madoka’s questioning could follow. This was all prepared for a simple but duplicitous request she had made to Madoka yesterday.

“Do you want to come swimming with me later, when the pool is empty and we can have it to ourselves?” Homura said, hands entwined behind her back.

The reason Homura claimed to have for her sudden desire to swim was that she loved swimming and hadn’t an opportunity to do so since coming out of the hospital. Totally false, of course, and someone obsessively analysing every single statement as Homura does would quickly realise two problems. Firstly, Homura had months to go swimming and hasn’t done so yet, so why now? Secondly, why was she roping Madoka into it? Hence the web of falsehoods that Homura had planned should Madoka start questioning. 

The innocent and pure Madoka, having no knowledge of Homura’s capabilities and true desires, fell for it immediately. 

“That sounds like fun, Homura. I can bring my swimsuit in tomorrow for it.”

\---

Every action Homura took since she and Madoka walked into the changing room was part of maintaining the facade. Excellent – nobody is here but them. Of course, she had planned the timing so that it would be exceptionally unlikely anyone else would be here, but it was not a certainty. Homura stripped out of her school uniform and into a black one-piece swimsuit as fast as she thought wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion and hurriedly stuffed her few belongings into a locker. She looked towards Madoka and made a catastrophic mistake. Madoka was still undressed. Good thing she couldn’t see too much from this distance. 

Homura turned away as fast as her neck could carry her, before calling from across the changing room. “I – I’ll go on ahead Madoka, don’t worry about me.”

“Okay!” Madoka yelled back. 

Madoka thought that Homura must just be super shy about getting changed in front of others. It’s that or she’s in a huge rush to finally get swimming again. Madoka makes ready for the pool at her own, more leisurely pace before following Homura. Emerging into the bright, artificially lit room housing the pool itself, Madoka looked in to see Homura frantically swimming back and forth. 

“Homura, I’m here! Are you OK?” Madoka shouted.

Homura halted mid-lap and waved to Madoka “I’m great, just going to keep doing laps, you can do whatever you want in the meantime.”

Madoka shrugged. She thought Homura must be desperate to get through that pent-up desire to swim, but she couldn’t really decide how she’d use her own time in the pool without anyone else giving it some direction. After slowly lowering herself into the too cold for comfort water, she started lazily paddling in circles.

\---

 _I’m an awful girl,_ Homura thought to herself. The deception she had pulled on Madoka had worked flawlessly so far. Homura did not really care for swimming, but she was passable enough at it that she could at least make it look like it was a hobby, at least to Madoka’s untrained eye. Yeah, swimming laps for a while should make it look like she’s into this, and definitely knows what she’s doing. Better than interacting with Madoka in the pool and getting distracted by whatever swimsuit she’s wearing that Homura absolutely doesn’t want to think about right now.

Homura’s furious pace gradually slows to a crawl as she realises that she doesn’t actually have the athletic physique and stamina required to pretend to have an athletic physique and stamina. She pauses her swimming to look up at the clock mounted on the far wall. She’s barely been in the water for 15 minutes and already she was close to the limits of her endurance. Maybe she could manage 5 more minutes if she tried, but she would need to reserve some energy for the final leg of her plan. Luckily, an excuse for this situation had already been prepared.

Homura slowly swam up to Madoka, who was lazily floating on her back in the middle of the pool. Madoka heard the approach, and got off her back, beginning to tread water. She had to avert her gaze from spending too long inspecting Madoka’s ruffled bikini. No need to look at that, she’d have plenty of time to see far more.

“Wow, you look exhausted? Need to get out?” Madoka tilted her head, concerned at the state of her friend.

“Yeah, turns out all that time in the hospital have left my skills far rustier than I thought. I’m totally finished.” Homura said. Certainly, she was feeling a bit tired, but she was putting on an act of being completely wiped out just to make the lie that little bit more effective. “I’ll get out and have a shower. I can wait until whenever you’re done.” 

Homura clumsily stepped up the pool’s ladder, continuing her act right to the last second. Madoka left her sight as she rounded the blind corner entrance to the changing room. Briskly walking to the lockers, she unlocked hers to retrieve her shower supplies alongside something she always kept hidden in her school bag; her soul gem. 

The next steps would need to be done swiftly. Madoka would easily be able to identify the dazzling glow of Homura using her soul gem to transform even through the cracks of the shower cubicles. Holding the flawless, clear purple gem out in front of her, she checked around one last time to ensure that Madoka had yet to arrive. She paced to an empty cubicle, locked it with the bolt, and then transformed.

In a showy display of light, causing the entire area to take on a radiant purple hue, the soul gem morphed and fused itself onto the back of the hand that once held it. The clothing of Homura’s magical girl outfit materialised around her body. Black leggings, a dull purple pleated skirt and a long white coat with black trim. All of it is unceremoniously dumped on the puddles on the floor after Homura removed it. She would need to keep the final piece, a steel shield affixed to her left forearm.

Turning the shower on, Homura washes the smell of chlorine off her body and out of her hair as best she can with heavily scented soaps and shampoos. All the time, she keeps an ear out for the sounds of Madoka entering the changing room. The excitement of what she was about to see, and do, begun to boil over in Homura’s stomach. She may pride herself on her typical stoic, unshakable demeanour, but there was always that one thing that would make her uncontrollably well up with emotion and it was soon to arrive.

Just as Homura was finishing washing the lather from her hair, she heard the dainty footsteps of Madoka’s entrance. Stepping aside from the cascade of water coming out of the showerhead to be able to hear with utmost clarity, Homura waits for the moment. The creaking sound of the metal locker door and the rustling Madoka makes as she grabs her belongings, but not yet the right signal. The gentle humming of Madoka’s voice as she walks across the room and still not the moment. The slam of another shower cubicle’s door followed by the mechanical sounds of the lock mechanism, painful anticipation but still not the right signal. Finally, the sound of a second shower stream announced the time.

Homura began counting down in her head from sixty, being sure not to create any unusual not-showering noises that may provoke attention. This also provided the useful side effect of helping her focus until the exact moment arrived.

As her mental count reached zero, purely through her mental will, she activated the shield. The stream of water falling onto her body halted around her. The gears and dials of the embossing on her shield shifted. All sound but the sound of her heartbeat had vanished. Even the light breeze of circulating air ended. Time had truly stopped, as planned.

Homura stepped towards the door. As she collided with the suspended water droplets, they remembered their temporal nature and ran onto her wet skin, only to become still once more the moment they dripped off her. Only that which she continued to touch would feel the passage of time. She unbolted the door and stepped into the main chamber of the changing room. Homura glanced around the room, spotting the only cubicle door which remained shut. There were no longer any sounds from Madoka’s shower, but that was where she would be. 

Homura knew her objective was painfully close. She glanced behind her and saw that she had made a mistake. Her hair was still soaking. Wet hair drips. Behind her was a sparse trail of floating drips of water, which would surely betray her presence once time resumed. At least, they would have if anyone were in this room to see them. The sound of their falling would be indistinguishable from the sounds of the showers. Sighing in relief, Homura composed herself with the thought that for this time, at least, her foolish mistake would go unpunished by fate. 

The door barring her way to Madoka remained as the last, daunting obstacle. Well, it would have been, but Homura had already figured out a technique to bolt and unbolt these doors from the outside. Plenty of experience with manipulating locks to get the weapons to fight witches taught her that doors are only a barrier in time, and she has all the time she needs. The thrill of what she would see was making her hands shaky, but this was simple compared to the heist she did last month. Despite the lock, the door fell to her efforts with ease and she slowly opened it.

There was Madoka, forever hers to see, but never hers to touch. Every trick Homura played has paid off, and now she can take in every inch of her reward in awe. Madoka stood naked under the frozen stream of the shower. Every part of her wet, pale skin was on full display for Homura’s leering eyes. Static drips and unflowing streams of water interrupted the flawlessly smooth complexion. Crystal spheres floated in the air around her, creating a cloud of thousands of tiny Madokas refracted through the droplets.

Homura swallowed. Madoka was looking straight at her? No, Homura realised, she must have just been looking at the door at the moment time became still. Regardless, those deep pink eyes watching her as she did what she was about to would only heighten the thrill further.

There was no way Homura could stay standing. Her legs would give out if she tried. If she fell onto Madoka, that moment would surely be the end of her life, as Madoka would again feel time and see what she was doing. She lowered herself down until she was resting her knees on the cold tile floor, never taking her eyes off her precious Madoka.

Confident that it was safe to continue, Homura brought her hand down between her legs. Her slit was totally soaked, and not just because of the shower. She started to run her fingertips along and across her sensitive areas. Homura had planned to spend more time inspecting Madoka before this stage, but her lust had already reached far beyond her limits.

Usually, Homura would get off to fantasies about all the wonderful things she wanted to do to Madoka. She would construct elaborate narratives in her mind that would inevitably end with vividly imagining herself fucking a dishevelled, half-undressed Madoka on every surface in her house, in any number of ways that she would never get to do. None of that was needed today. The still as a statue Madoka before her would be all she would need. Nothing about her, neither her shampoo-permeated loose hair nor the delicate hands that were locked mid-scrubbing, had to be left to the imagination.

“Madoka... Why can I not have you all to myself?” Homura whispered to herself between her breathy gasps. No. Now wasn’t the time for self-pity. She had Madoka right where she wanted her. She had won. Homura’s listless stroking had grown into a shaky, desperate search for more sensation and friction. One she could barely put the effort into thinking about, given the centre of her unending attention was in front of her.

Homura’s lurid gaze went to Madoka’s breasts. They were pretty flat, about the same size as Homura’s, but she always knew there was more to breasts than the size. They were smooth, rounded, and just barely plump enough that she could give them a comfortable and complete squeeze, like she was doing to one of her own with her spare hand right now. Those firm nipples were compact too, and their beautiful rose colour complemented the pale skin around them.

Homura added the occasional tug of her own nipple to her efforts, which had grown from a lazy frolic across her body into a fury of lust. Her hips were grinding into her own hand, seeking as much pressure as she could manage. Fingers alternated between recklessly thrusting into her hot, needy core and rubbing against her over-sensitive clit. Ragged moans and breathy gasps unavoidably escaped her throat. Despite it all, her eyes never erred from the focus of her desires.

Madoka’s slender hips didn’t have much to draw attention to. It didn’t take her being naked for anyone to spot that there wasn’t all that much to grab back there. Homura didn’t mind. Madoka’s svelte physique had an appeal all of its own, with no feature feeling out of proportion. Between Madoka’s hips was the centre of Homura’s most explicit desires. She couldn’t see much with how Madoka was standing, but there was enough of a hint for all the important details. Oh, how she longed an opportunity to run her tongue across every single delectable part. She would have to settle for only touching her own.

With her thoughts locked upon Madoka, Homura barely noticed her orgasm coming until it had already wracked its way across her entire body. She fell forward, strength giving out as her entire body twitched and twisted beyond her control. The muffled cries of her pleasure echoed through the room, before giving way to arrhythmic panting as Homura caught her breath. Homura was usually demure about it; she knew she hadn’t come like that since after she first raided a bunch of vibrators from a store. Madoka could get her off like nobody else, even if Madoka had no idea what was going on.

Homura slowly stood up, unsteady in her legs from the remaining fuzzy exhilaration of her orgasm. Another thing she would excuse as exhaustion from swimming. Barely even a lie at this point. The exhaustion was genuine, but she would not speak of the main cause. She took one last opportunity to gaze at Madoka’s naked form. Sighing, Homura steeled herself to bring today’s events, and the cubicle door, to a close.

Back under her own shower, Homura focused as she brought the frozen time to an end. The water drops floating around her fell, followed by the deluge from the showerhead itself. Sounds too had returned. At full attention for any potential yelps or cries from Madoka, Homura heard nothing out of the ordinary. Her efforts were a success, neither Madoka nor anyone else would ever learn of what she had just done. 

Homura reverted to her normal form, soul gem no longer fused to her hand and the drenched magical girl outfit on the floor vanishing. Quickly finishing up her shower routine, which required an extra scrubbing of her hand and between her leg to clean up her own fluids, Homura got out of the shower cubicle. She quickly towelled dry, dressed, gathered her belongings, and decided to wait outside the changing room for Madoka.

Sat on a bench just opposite the changing room entrance, Homura thought now would be a time for introspection. However, Homura’s mind was still overwhelmed with giddy excitement, and it was taking all her wavering effort to avoid showing this on her face.

“Wow, Homura, are you going to be OK walking home?” Madoka said as stepped out of the changing room. This lie was even easier to pull off now that Homura was as exhausted as she tried to look.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Madoka. This was really fun, even though we didn’t stay long.” Homura said, with full honesty. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Only if you promise to not let yourself get into such a state,” Madoka pouted. “You really look like you went too far.”

Akemi Homura is an awful girl, but she might yet learn to love swimming.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the "Solo action writing contest". If you're reading this, it's almost certainly past the deadline for the contest already. Thanks to the organiser of this contest for encouraging me to write PMMM lewds again.


End file.
